


Walking to Work

by therobo665



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4676519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therobo665/pseuds/therobo665
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old man walks to work on a rainy day, and realizes the rest of the world is leaving him behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking to Work

I walked to work today. On any other day, I would have taken the train. But today, something about the tumult of rain crashing down onto the streets, soaking passersby down to the skin and sending them sunning along, bumping into one another as they desperately seek shelter, dry and warm…

I pull my coat off of its place on the wall, my arms sliding into its long, wrinkled sleeves before emerging on the other side, equally furrowed. Turning the doorknob slowly, I see two boys down the hall, laughing and joking about some private, likely trivial matter. None of my business anyway. I make my way steadily to the elevator doors, beside which the taller of the two is leaning. In the middle of his sentence he falters, words dying out on his tongue as he quickly moves to the other side of the corridor, giving me ample room before continuing his conversation. My finger presses down the button, and my eyes stay fixes on the on it, never wavering or wandering towards my neighbors. Without looking, I can feel their eyes on the back of my head, cast sideways, not consciously staring. I hear their pauses between words as they think, gazes flickering up and down my thin, hunched frame. The doors slide open. I get in, catching a quick glimpse of my own face in the mirror opposite me, and I turn my body around as quickly as it will allow, seeing the boys once more before the doors slide shut.

Stepping out into the cold wind, I tug my collar up around my exposed neck and begin my journey. Cold, biting rain pummels my glasses, hindering my vision, and freezing gales cause the ends of my jacket to billow out behind me, folding in on each other. My old, scratched wooden cane strikes the cobblestones beneath it in a solid rhythm, the rhythm of the slow, careful feet just behind it; tap, tap, tap. Many people pass me by. One young woman speeds past in the opposite direction, her side briefly knocking into my shoulder. I hear a faint voice as she calls out in apology, already halfway down the block, but I don’t turn, my pace hardly changing. Another two overtake me, a pair smiling under a wide, jet-black umbrella, each with an arm around the other. The downpour never ceases, cars streaking down their roads and spitting mists of rainwater in their wake. Tap, tap, tap. I can feel drops beginning to slide down the back of my neck and down my spine, snaking as low as they can before they’re stopped by some article of clothing or another. The chill in the air has already seeped its way into my bones, and I can almost hear my joints groan with every step I take and every downwards nudge of my arm. Tap, tap, tap.  
I used to walk to work every day. I was one of these people now passing me by, smiling at people I knew, always in a rush to get to where I was going, wherever I needed to be. Then, after years of the same life, same routine, I started to be late. At first it was only once, maybe twice a week, then nearly every day. Along with tardiness, came offers of retirement. And I began to take the train.

I turn left, feeling the solid, stable stone under my feet give way to muddy ground, blades of wet grass tickling my ankles as I stroll through the park. A small café in front of me, warm, golden light seeping out its windows into the gray morning sky, proves a welcome haven for soggy travelers, and I can hear many happy voices inside as I pass it by. My back hurts. I stop in front of a bench, its paint chipping and wood half-rotten, and I stoop down slowly to sit, ignoring the wetness underneath me. I lean back, feeling my bones sigh in relief, and my gaze turns upwards. Dark, thick clouds fill the sky, with nary a gap between them as they sweep their way angrily through the sky, sending down their shouts of thunder, and their tears. My finger absent-mindedly picks at a stray peeling of dark green paint, snapping it off and casting it down onto the dirt below. I look down to the watch on my wrist; 8:06. Six minutes late. I lean my head back. Rain spatters down into puddles all around me, and footsteps splash down into those puddles. Other people, going to work, to visit friends, family, other loved ones. All moving too quickly. The whole world leaving me behind. I close my eyes, and smile, a small faint smile, hardly recognizable. I walked to work today


End file.
